


A Better Beauty

by ardentmuse



Series: Merlin Oneshots [14]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Budding Love, Flirting, Fluff, Jealousy, Mission Fic, Museums, Romance, Undercover, Undercover as Married, ardentmuse almost 2k celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-16 16:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20866037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentmuse/pseuds/ardentmuse
Summary: A tumblr request: For your follower thing, can I get Merlin and number 6? Kill me. Kill me. Kill me?





	A Better Beauty

The large framed glasses you are wearing upon your face slide down the brim of your nose as you hastily take down notes in the small moleskin you carry with you around the museum. The docent assigned to your small group is rambling on about some method for achieving true black as seen through the collections of Madonna and Child. You tap along with his words, nodding as he makes what you assume is meant to be an insightful point about art, finance, and innovation, but you honestly are not listening. You are too busy taking in each security camera, each guard stand, each case lock and laser bar that might go missed if less trained eyes observed the room.

You move your pencil to your mouth as the group pauses before a breathtaking impressionist piece, something such a swirl of blues and oranges that you find yourself squinting to try and make out the image. The paint is so thick, lobbed strokes like petals upon the canvas, that you have to fight back the urge to reach out and touch it. And for the first time during this scouting mission, you pause to take in the beauty of the things you are seeing.

As your mouth falls open, you catch the eyes of the young docent mid-sentence. He’s tall and lean – not much unlike the man beside you – and his all black button up and slacks make him even leaner, like a statue held within the walls more than a person. He smiles at you, the kind of half-smile one gives when they catch the eye of someone mid-party, hoping another soul might be in on the joke that no one is telling. And you couldn’t help but smile back. Cute is cute, in a museum or a coffee shop or in a high street tailor.

“Kill me. Kill me. Kill me,” Merlin whispers beside you as the docent waxes on about the birth of cubism. His hands are deep in his pockets as his eyes roam the large hall of nineteenth century European art, looking anywhere but where he is supposed to.

You lightly jab your mission partner in the shoulder with your pencil, enough to draw his attention but not enough to hurt him.

“No one said you had to join me for this part, mister.”

“And miss this riveting soliloquy being played out before us? I wouldn’t dare,” Merlin says, his voice laced with the kind of mirth you love about having him with you in the field. Once he was behind a computer, Merlin was as rigid and professional as they come. But here, beside you among the fieldwork itself, Merlin’s lighter side shines through.

“He’s not that bad,” you muse, “Ever consider maybe you’re a bad audience?”

Merlin laughs as you move with the group towards the atrium of collected statues where you started the tour. Your guide begins his closing remarks as you continue to note the placement of donation boxes and archways, lights and wiring. Merlin meanwhile seems to not care one bit about the scenery, choosing instead to only look at you.

Dropping to a whisper once more, Merlin asks, “Do you like this stuff, anyway?”

“Scouting? I mean I like my job and this is part of it. It could be a lot—“

“No, not that,” he says with a dip on the chin to your notebook, “Art, history, culture… museums and docents.” He says the last word with a bit of grit as your eyes catch that the cute tall man is addressing the group still, though his eyes seem to keep roaming over towards you, that shy smile still finding home on his face.

You look up and consider Merlin for a moment. He isn’t smiling at you like the tour guide is, but you can recall times when he had, times when he kissed your brow in thankfulness of your safety or laughed at you over a game of cards to kill the time on the jet or the rare moments like this out in the field when you got to pretend just for a minute that you were just two people who met on the street and saw something beautiful in each other.

And beautiful he is.

“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. It can feel like work to take in so much beauty, but sometimes beauty is a blessing.”

“Beauty is always a blessing, my love,” Merlin hums as he watches you closely. His eyes are crinkling just a bit at the corners, drawing you into the soft swirl of brown and green that looked how an impressionist might want to capture the beauty of the Scottish hills. It seems fitting on his face, with the drawl of his voice and the soft curves of his jaw and collar bone and shoulders reminding you so much of the beautiful mountains and cliffs of the lands of his youth. And just like before, when taking in the works of the masters, you are awestruck by the tantalizing perfection of it. 

Merlin catches your pencil before you realize you had even dropped it.

“I think I might be willing to be a better audience if I had a better speaker. Perhaps you’d be willing to show me sometime? Maybe we can get dinner afterwards, my treat?”

Merlin’s cheeks are the slightest pink as he asks you the question, somehow shy despite all the bravery within him. You smile in turn, loving the idea of being closer to this man who’d be willing to try something he didn’t particularly enjoy if it meant spending time with you.

But you don’t get to respond before the crowd disperses and the young art historian is standing beside you, arms stretched in introduction.

“Thank you for your excellent attention,” he says with a nod to your notebook, which you close with a quick snap before he can see that your notes have little to do with brushstrokes and color theory. “I can certainly say I’ve never had such a studious student in attendance. And quite a striking one too, if I might be so bold.”

You are about to respond thanking him for his compliment and brushing off his advances, but he just barrels through, ignoring your open mouth.

“I’d be happy to offer a personal tour, much more detail for your notes and many corridors unexplored in the public tour.”

The smile you thought cute turns creepy in an instant, just a little too much teeth and the corners rigid. You grimace.

Merlin lunges forward at the implication, ready to eat off the head of any man who dare prey on you in any way, but you stop him with a firm hand to the chest.

“Husband,” you say as sweetly as you can, linking your hands with Merlin and instantly he picks up the cover, brushing his shoulder against your own. “This nice man has just offered us a private tour, isn’t that sweet? Too bad we’ll be leaving for our next city tomorrow. Such a shame our honeymoon is so structured, isn’t it, darling?” Your voice is laced with the kind of sweetness you reserve for missions, the kind that disarms everyone with its naivety, if only they knew the hardness underneath.

“Indeed it is, my love,” Merlin muses as he takes your notebook and slides it into his breast pocket. He offers the docent a curt nod before pulling you out the door with it.

Once outside, he tries to let your hand slip but you simply won’t let him. He turns to look at you.

“Yes, I’d like that,” you finally say with a smile.

It takes Merlin a moment to process what you mean, but when he remembers the lead up to your awkward interaction with the guide, he smiles big and true.

“But perhaps a different museum? One without creeps.”

“I doubt we’d ever find such a place,” you joke.

Merlin pauses at the bottom of the stone steps of the old building, taking a moment to assess that your hand still sits in his. “Maybe then just dinner? I’ll have enough beauty to study if you are sitting across from me.”

And somehow you don’t have it in you to argue with him because honestly his face is better than a thousand paintings anyway, especially when it is trained on you.

**Author's Note:**

> https://ardentmuse.tumblr.com/post/188089454581/for-your-follower-thing-can-i-get-merlin-and


End file.
